


Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

by widget285



Category: Singin' in the Rain (1952)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-21
Updated: 2005-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widget285/pseuds/widget285
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't exactly a glamorous life, but at least he didn't have to go it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Todesengel

 

 

"Ah, scenic Coyotesville. Why, it's even more scenic than Dead Man Fang's, Arizona!"

The sign hanging from the station post proclaiming "Coyoteville, N.M." in faded letters swung back and forth as if in approval of Cosmo's rather generous assessment.

A soft chuckle floated behind him. "There was a sandstorm when we were there, if you recall."

Cosmo turned to see Don stepping up beside him. Don dropped his battered suitcase to the platform and raised his hand to shade his eyes against the blazing midday sun.

"True, but you have to admit, it was good for business. They loved us there!"

"They threw vegetables at us, Cosmo," Don said, his voice tinged with what Cosmo liked to interpret as fond exasperation but which might have been closer to just plain old exasperation.

"But they were fresh vegetables," Cosmo replied with a grin. "Only the best for us. Why, this time around, I'm fully expecting the finest cuts of beef will be tossed our way!"

Don rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "I'm not sure that getting hit by raw beef is a step up."

"Always the pessimist, Don."

"Always the cock-eyed optimist, Cosmo."

"Guilty as charged."

They shared another smile at the old familiar joke before Don cuffed him on the shoulder. "C'mon, Mr. Optimism. Let's see about getting ourselves a room."

Cosmo grabbed his suitcase and followed Don from the train station.

[][][]

Coyoteville, New Mexico, population 1,489, boasted precisely one hotel, but given the town's dearth of either quaint charm or scenic attractions, it was all that was needed. Things might be booming in the big cities, but out here in the middle of nowhere, the smaller towns slept on, oblivious to the changes taking place around them. Oatmeal, Nebraska, their most recent stop still relied on gaslights instead of electric ones. That was just the way things were out here in the sticks.

Coyoteville was much the same. It would never be a tourist draw, but it was a paying job and that was good enough for them.

A small bell over the door tinkled when they entered the Washburn Hotel. The man behind the desk didn't bother looking up from his newspaper at the sound. He didn't look up when Cosmo and Don came to stand in front of the desk and dropped their suitcases on the wood-planked floor. It wasn't until Cosmo hit the bell that sat on the counter next to the sign that announced "Washburn Hotel, Ebenezer Smeagens, proprietor," that the presumed Mr. Smeagens lowered his newspaper and stared at them over the rims of his glasses, clearly put out by the interruption.

Cosmo, however, refused to be cowed by some two-bit innkeeper.

"Your best room, my good man," Cosmo demanded in a haughty voice that would have been the envy of a Barrymore.

Smeagens didn't so much as blink. "Only got one room left," he said briskly. "Four dollar a night. Breakfast's another fifty cents apiece. Cash up front."

Cosmo felt his face fall. "Four dollars! That's highway robbery! Why I..."

"We'll take it," Don broke in smoothly. "Pay the man, Cosmo."

Cosmo bit down on his retort and pulled out his wallet. He handed the proprietor a five, silently muttering imprecations against his paternity all the while.

Smeagens took the bill and slid a key across the counter. "Room seven," he said, before snapping the newspaper up again, as neat a dismissal as Cosmo had ever seen. He glared at the man, eyes burning a hole through the newsprint before Don grasped his arm and began to drag him in the direction of the staircase. Cosmo grabbed his suitcase, still fuming, but didn't say a word.

Room number seven looked exactly like room number twelve in Kalamazoo, Michigan which, not surprisingly, also looked like room number three in Boise, Idaho, room number four in Possum Trot, Kentucky and room number ten on Gnaw Bone, Indiana. There was a kind of uniformity to the flea bag hotels they stayed in on the road that was both depressing and reassuring in its familiarity. Even before crossing the threshold, Cosmo knew that the mattress would be thin and lumpy, the wallpaper would be faded, the paint on the window sashes would be peeling, and the water in the corner sink would be tepid.

Cosmo scanned the room: thin and lumpy mattress, check; faded wallpaper and peeling paint, check. There was a sink in the corner, but there was no way of determining the water temperature without running it. Cosmo didn't feel the need to test his hypothesis; it would range from tepid to lukewarm. It always did.

Maybe he should give up singing and dancing and start a new act. The Amazing, All-Seeing Cosmo, Master of Prognostication.

But then Don would strike out on his own and that was the last thing Cosmo wanted. Seedy, second rate theaters and flea bag hotels he could live with so long as having Don by his side was part of the bargain.

That didn't mean Cosmo had to like it, though.

"Last room, my Aunt Fanny," Cosmo muttered. "Nobody in their right mind would come to this hick town."

"Well, that would explain why we're here." Don chuckled and cracked the window to get a little air circulating, even if it was hot and dry as dust. "And unless your Aunt Fanny has moved to Coyoteville and has a room to rent, we're stuck here. I'm not sleeping on a park bench."

"A park bench would probably be more comfortable than this bed," Cosmo said, giving the mattress an experimental bounce. Yes, definitely thin and lumpy.

"What else is new?"

"Four dollars a night." Cosmo shook his head. "That's gonna come to over half of what Caldwell promised us for this gig."

Don sent him a soft, reassuring smile. "We'll make do, Cosmo. We always do."

Cosmo sent him an amused look. "And when did you become the optimist in this team?"

Don shrugged, still smiling. "I guess you're rubbing off on me."

Cosmo smiled back. "Well, it's nice to see you emulating my worthier traits."

"You have worthy traits?"

"Har, har."

Don chuckled again before grabbing his violin case. "Well, you can sit around here and complain about the lousy accommodations if you want, but I'd rather head to the theater and get in some rehearsal time before tonight's performance. You coming?"

"All right, all right. I'm coming." Cosmo grabbed the sheet music from his suitcase, his violin case from the floor and closed the door behind them.

[][][]

It was a short walk across town to the theater, but then there wasn't a whole lot of town to Coyoteville. Like a lot of dots on the map out west, Coyoteville had hit its heyday the previous century. It had flourished for a time, thanks to an influx of cash from nearby silver mines, growing from a tent camp to a genuine town almost overnight. But when the mine tapped out, the boom had turned bust and most of the hopefuls had moved on to the next mine and the next rush, leaving behind the shell of a once prosperous town like the shed skin of a snake.

The Majestic Theater situated on Main Street was a relic of that bygone prosperity. It had probably been something in its day, but now it was rundown and ramshackle. The grandiose name suited the joint like a tuxedo on a hobo.

Cosmo stopped in front of the dilapidated faade and sighed. "The fancier the name..."

"...the more rundown the dive." Don finished for him, having heard the observation more times than he could probably count. He clapped Cosmo on the shoulder and they headed inside.

Rundown it might be, but Cosmo was grateful that it was considerably cooler inside the darkened theater. They headed towards the stage, where several scantily clad girls were trying - and largely failing - to master a pretty rudimentary dance number. Cosmo winced as one of the girls turned left instead of right, promptly stepping on another girl's foot.

They were a long, long way from Broadway.

Don grabbed the arm of a freckle-faced boy who couldn't have been much more than thirteen. "We're looking for Mr. Caldwell."

The boy jerked his thumb towards the stage before continuing on his way.

In retrospect directions had been unnecessary. The old rule held true: if you wanted to find the theater manager, just head towards the guy yelling the loudest.

"No, no, no! Right, Dora! Right! How many times do I have to tell you?"

Dora looked abashed, shooting nervous looks between the manager and the brunette who was glaring at her and rubbing her foot. "Sorry, Mr. Caldwell."

"All right, try it again and this time try not to break Millie's toes."

"Mr. Caldwell?"

The man turned, his set expression softening slightly at the sight of them.  
"You the new act?"

"Yes, sir," Don said, flashing the man his best smile as he made a little half bow. "Lockwood and Brown at your service."

Caldwell gave an inelegant snort, clearly unimpressed. "The pay's sixty-five for the week. Nightly performance plus a matinee on Saturday." He cast a quick glance at his clipboard. "You're up between Slappy Powell and Scheherazade, the Queen of the Orient."

For one brief moment, Don's smile faltered, but then it was back even brighter than before. "Wonderful. Any chance we can rehearse?"

Caldwell gave them a look, then shifted his gaze to the stage where the chorus line continued to trip over their own feet and sighed.

"Sure, why not? They won't be getting better any time soon." Caldwell turned towards the stage. "All right girls. Take five, will ya?"

The girls headed off stage, their expressions a mixture of relief, embarrassment and general annoyance. Cosmo couldn't help but smile a little. If that was the caliber of talent being offered, then he and Don would be the highlight of the show. Of course, Cosmo had learned long ago never to underestimate the power of a pretty face, some nice curves, and a lot of leg, especially in a place like this.

Don made his way on stage while Cosmo headed to the accompanist.

"What'll it be, boys?"

Cosmo handed over the sheet music. "Fit as a Fiddle. D flat." Leaving the man to review the score, he joined Don on stage.

Don already had his violin out of the case and was tuning up. He flashed Cosmo a smile. "Ready?"

Cosmo retrieved his violin and drew a few strains from it. "Whenever you are, monsignor," he replied extravagantly. Don's smile grew wider.

He looked over to the man seated behind the piano. "We're ready whenever you are."

The opening notes filled the theater and then as one, he and Don began to move across the stage, their movements perfectly synchronized as the familiar words sprang to their lips.

_Fit as a fiddle and ready for love._

_I can jump over the moon up above._

_Fit as a fiddle and ready for love!_

They always started with this number. It was a little on the hokey side but it had an infectious melody that set toes to tapping. Start strong and finish on a high note that was their motto.

This rehearsal wasn't really necessary. They'd performed this routine enough times that they knew the words and steps by heart and could probably reenact it in their sleep.

Heel, ball, change, heel, ball, change, pivot, turn, slide. Repeat.

It wasn't the most elaborate dance routine they'd ever staged, but singing and playing an instrument while dancing was a lot more difficult than it looked. And at least they weren't tripping over each other's toes. That already put them one up on the would-be chorus-line.

Heel, ball, change, heel, ball, change, pivot, turn, slide. Repeat.

Cosmo executed another turn and Don was right there with him, moving in tandem, his bow sliding easily over the strings of violin in perfect counterpoint to the flutter of the piano keys and the staccato sound of their footfalls.

Heel, ball, change, heel, ball, change, pivot, turn, slide. Repeat.

And then the big finish. Forward, back, pivot, turn, pivot turn, slide and then the final arpeggio, a quick splash of sound followed by silence.

Easy as pie.

[][][]

They didn't linger after their rehearsal: no point, really, not with their debut performance hours away. They could have returned to the hotel to grab a few z's, but Cosmo felt unaccountably restless. There was something in the air, not a sandstorm like in Dead Man's Fang, but something else that set Cosmo's nerves on edge and made him antsy. When he suggested taking a short turn around town, Don agreed at once. Maybe Cosmo wasn't the only one who felt the change on the wind. So they ambled outside, the sun hot on the back of their necks, pavement and dirt packed streets hard beneath their feet.

It was soon apparent that Cosmo's initial appraisal about the lack of charm and lack of town in Coyoteville had been dead on, but then, they'd been here before, or close enough. Coyoteville was no better or worse, and certainly no different, than any of a dozen other towns out west. Dead Man's Fang, Robbers Roost, Whiskey Basin, Lame Deer, Winnemucca, West Bonetrail, they were all the same: dusty, dry and dull. But then, they weren't in it for the sights. All they ever really needed was a place to hang their hats long enough to take the stage, entertain the locals, and earn a little cash before hitting the road again. Then it was on to the next town, the next gig, the next payday.

So much for the thrilling life of the vaudeville star.

It wasn't exactly glamorous, but it was a living. Besides, Cosmo reminded himself, it could be a lot worse. At least he didn't have to go it alone. Don's company counted for a lot.

It counted for everything.

By the time they returned to the theatre, backstage was bubbling with the heady excitement that always preceded a performance. All at once, Cosmo's dark mood melted away. This was why he did it, why they did it. There was nothing like the glow of the footlights, the smell of grease paint and the sound of applause to get the blood pumping, nothing in the world.

They didn't rate a dressing room of their own. Instead, they found themselves sharing what appeared to be an old broom closet with a ventriloquist named Tommy McGuffin.He eyed them suspiciously when they walked in the door.

"Hello," a voice said from the opposite side of the room, making them both jump. They looked in the direction of the voice. Nothing.

When they turned to look back in McGuffin's direction he was smirking at them.

Cosmo's eyes narrowed. He really hated ventriloquists.

"Not exactly the Ritz, but I suppose it'll do," Cosmo observed airily. "Excuse me, pardon me," he said as he shouldered his way past and dropped his violin case on the small dressing table. Thankfully, McGuffin took the hint and disappeared with an insolent look, leaving them to enjoy what little privacy they could.

Well, almost.

Don, who had dropped into the chair in front of the mirror looked up to see Cosmo frowning at his reflection.

"What?"

"He's staring at me!"

Don frowned, looking around the otherwise unoccupied dressing room. "Who?"

"Him!" Cosmo said, pointing into the mirror.

Eyes tracked the direction of Cosmo's finger. There was no one there, except...

"It's a ventriloquist dummy, you dummy!"

"Says you! Look at how his eyes follow me around the room!"

Don snorted. "It's a piece of wood, ya big lug!"

"Well, I don't like it."

Don got up and quickly draped a shirt over the dummy, hiding it from view.

"Better?"

"Much," Cosmo replied as he slid into the chair Don had just vacated, smiling at his friend's consternation.

"Why do I put up with you again?"

"The world would be a lonely and empty place without me?"

"Well, that's one explanation," Don replied, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Here," he said, tossing Cosmo's jacket at him to land over his face. "Definitely an improvement."

Cosmo ignored Don's laughter as he pulled the jacket off his head. The movementtousled his hair, making it stand up at funny angles. Don laughed harder.

"Har, har. You missed your calling, Don. You should have been a comedian."

"Nah, I'll leave that to you, funny man."

"Well, that's the first sensible thing you've said all day," Cosmo said as he struggled with the jacket, trying to sort out the top from the bottom and the back from the front. It was only by accident that he found the tear, the fraying threads tickling the tips of his fingers.

"Huh."

Don looked up. "What is it this time?"

"It would appear that I've acquired a bit of ventilation in my jacket." By way of illustration, Cosmo poked his finger through the rather large hole that had begun to form near the right shoulder and wiggled it at Don.

"Hmm...Well, given how worn these things are, we should count ourselves lucky they haven't fallen apart completely."

Cosmo stared at the jacket, its once red stripes faded pink from repeated wash and wear. Don was right; it was a miracle they'd held together this long. It might be time to invest in some new costumes. Cosmo tried not to think about how much that would set them back. For now, though, mending would have to do the trick.

Heaving himself out of the chair, Cosmo peered out into the corridor, looking for a likely candidate. A buxom blonde sporting a tantalizingly short skirt passed by.

"Excuse me, madam, but I wonder if you might be willing to help a poor unfortunate man out of a bind..."

Her response did not bear repeating.

"Well, that was uncalled for!" Cosmo called out to her retreating back. He tilted his head. At least the view was pleasant.

Don gave his shoulder a tug. "Nice try, Cosmo, but you should leave this to the professionals."

Another girl walked by and as Cosmo watched, Don turned on the charm. "Excuse me, miss, I wonder if there might be a sewing kit somewhere around. I seem to have torn my jacket."

Don held up the garment in question for her inspection. Her face softened.

"Oh dear, that's terrible," she said and her voice was sweet enough that she might almost have meant it. Clearly she was new to the business. "Here, give it to me. I'll fix it for you."

Don smiled, and as if on cue, she blushed.

He handed her the jacket, his fingers trailing across the back of her hand as she took it from him. "Thanks, you're an angel."

Her blush deepened. "I'll bring it right back."

Once the girl was out of sight, Don turned and gave Cosmo a self-satisfied smile.

"One day, you're going to tell me how you do that," he said shaking his head, torn as always between admiration and jealousy. He could never quite decide if the last was aimed at Don or at the object of his attentions. Cosmo preferred not to dwell on it.

Don's grin stretched. "It's a gift, my friend. Either you have it, or you don't."

Cosmo rolled his eyes, but he wasn't about to complain. Anything that spared him from having to sew should be accepted graciously.

The girl, who was named Betty, was as good as her word. She returned fifteen minutes later, freshly mended jacket in hand and a blush still staining her cheeks. Yep, definitely a novice. Don thanked her profusely and handed it over to Cosmo once she was gone.

Cosmo shrugged into the jacket. He drew a fingertip down the line of neat white stitches. "She does good work. I did, however, notice that you weren't entirely honest about whose jacket this was."

Don, who was busy tying his bow tie didn't bother looking away from the mirror. "Does it matter? After all, what's mine is yours, right?"

Cosmo caught his gaze in the mirror and smiled. "And vice versa."

They shared a smile before Don straightened and tossed Cosmo his straw hat. Cosmo caught it easily, setting it atop his head as Don did the same.

Don slung a companionable arm around Cosmo's shoulders and they shared another smile. "So, Cosmo, are you ready to dazzle them?"

"Filet mignons, Don. Tonight they'll be throwin' filet mignons!"

Cosmo followed the sound of Don's laughter down the corridor.

[][][]

The evening's show had already begun by the time they joined the group of performers biding their time backstage. Cosmo cast a quick look at the tally board. Three more acts before them. They settled in for the wait.

When Slappy Powell made his way onstage, they moved into the wings. From his vantage behind the curtain, Cosmo scanned the audience. It looked like a decent crowd. Not a packed house, but better than he would have expected for a place like this. But then, what else was there to do in a one horse town like Coyoteville?

Cosmo lent half an ear to Slappy's performance, trying to gauge audience's mood.

"Marriage is like a three-ring circus," he heard Slappy say. "Engagement ring, wedding ring, and suffer-ing."

The crowd laughed on cue; Cosmo just rolled his eyes. That joke had been old when Cosmo was still in diapers. "Amateurs," he muttered under his breath.

He stopped listening after that.

"Ready?"

Don's voice was soft, his breath warm against the back of Cosmo's neck. When he turned, he saw Don smiling at him. His own breath caught in his throat.

There was a roar of applause and then Slappy vacated the stage. "They're all yours, boys," he said with a smug grin on his face as if he were Mack Swain himself.

Cosmo nodded and followed Don to the edge of the curtain to wait for their introduction.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, dee-rect from Broadway where they dazzled audiences nightly..."

Cosmo snorted at that outlandish claim. "Hey, Don, when did they rename Oatmeal, Nebraska "Broadway?"

Don just gave him a wry look as the announcer continued. "...we bring you the stupendous, the marvelous, Lockwood and Jones!"

"Brown," Cosmo muttered. "Lockwood and _Brown_!"

"No time," Don said, grabbing his arm. "We're on!"

And then there was the music and the glow of the footlights and Don's familiar presence beside him and the slight was entirely forgotten.

_Fit as a fiddle and ready for love._

_I can jump over the moon up above._

_Fit as a fiddle and ready for love!_

Heel, ball, change, heel, ball, change, pivot, turn, slide. Repeat.

Perfect.

[][][]

"It's a lousy position in the line-up," Don said over dinner that night. "Bad enough to be following a comedian, but there's nothing worse than being the warm up for a fan dancer. The audience never pays attention."

Mom's Diner -every town, no matter how small, seemed to have one - was the only place still serving by the time the evening's performance was over. Even so, it was mostly empty which suited Cosmo just fine. He shrugged, swirling his fork idly through the remnants of his mashed potatoes. Thin and lumpy, just like the hotel mattress. Maybe they could make that the new town motto?

"Well, it could have been worse," Cosmo pointed out. "At least we didn't follow an animal act. Remember that time up in Skull Creek when we were on right after Princess Peggy and her Prancing Pony?"

Don's face twisted into an expression that was equal parts disgust and wry amusement. "I don't think I'm likely to forget. I was cleaning my tap shoes for days after that."

Don's laughter was infectious.

"Not one of our finer moments," Cosmo observed.

"I'll say."

"We should fire our agent."

"You're out agent, Cosmo."

He gave Don a sly smile. "Like I said..."

"Oh no," Don said, laughing. "You're not weaseling your way out of it that easily, buddy boy! We have an agreement: you book the jobs, I supply the charm."

As if on cue, their waitress reappeared. "Is there anything else I can get for you boys?"

"Some more coffee would be good. Oh, and maybe a few of those delicious homemade rolls..."

And then he smiled at her. No, smiling didn't quite describe what Don did. He beamed, teeth gleaming, his whole face aglow as he stared into her eyes like she was the only woman in the joint, the only woman on the _planet_ for that matter. And sure enough this woman who was old enough to be his mother dropped her gaze and blushed like a school girl with a crush. When she looked up again she did so with a flutter of lashes and a shy smile on her lips.

"I'd be happy to," she said before pulling back, flustered.

Cosmo had no doubt that when she returned she'd not come only bearing a freshly brewed pot of coffee and a basket filled with rolls, but probably a big slice of homemade pie as well. Two if they were really lucky.

Don leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned like the cat that got the cream.

"All right, all right. Don't rub it in," Cosmo groused but there was no real irritation behind the words. Cosmo was well acquainted with Don's uncanny charm. He'd seen it in operation many times during the years they'd traveled together: the magic worked and the spell cast.

Cosmo should know; he'd fallen prey to it long ago and had never quite recovered.

Cosmo wasn't sure he ever wanted to recover.

Don's expression suddenly turned thoughtful. "How long have we been performing together, Cosmo?"

Cosmo paused to consider the question. "Three years, give or take a couple of months."

Don nodded drew himself up a little straighter as if he'd come to some decision.  
"I think it might be time for a change."

Cosmo felt his stomach bottom out at those unexpected words.

"We haven't done too badly for ourselves," he said, hoping Don didn't hear the note of thinly veiled panic in his voice.

Don shook his head, frowning. "We're spinning out wheels, Cosmo. All this time on the road, moving from one two-bit vaudeville stage to the next and what do we have to show for it? A couple of battered suitcases and a few hundred dollars? We're no closer to Broadway now than we were when we hit the road three years ago."

There was an uncharacteristic note of bitterness in Don's voice. For all that he might berate Don for being a gloomy Gus, Cosmo knew it wasn't entirely true. No one could last for long in this business without a healthy does of optimism. It was a survival skill, especially out on the road where jobs were scarce and pay was low and you never knew where, or when, your next gig might be.

But even cock-eyed optimists have their limits...

"All right, so maybe we haven't quite made it to Broadway yet, but it's only a matter of time..."

Don ran a hand through his neatly pomaded hair, his frustration palpable. "A matter of time before what, Cosmo? Some talent agent just happens to be passing by Peatville or Eutaw or some other God forsaken place where we're trying to eek out a living and decides to sweep us off to Broadway?Face it Cosmo, if it was going to happen, it would have happened by now."

Cosmo stared at Don, chest tightening with a feeling of sick dread. He'd always known this day might come, but he'd clung to the hope that it wouldn't, that Don needed him as much as he needed Don. Cosmo let his hands drop to his lap and curled them into fists beneath the tablecloth.

"And it's only going to get worse," Don continued, his gaze fixed on Cosmo's face. "With so many of the bigger theaters converting to picture show houses, there'll be fewer jobs. Remember the Palace Theatre in Albuquerque? And the one in Missoula Falls? They used to be two of the better theaters on the vaudeville circuit and now they show nothing but moving pictures. Hell, it's only a matter of time before all the halfway decent theaters disappear. I don't want to spend the rest of my life playing places like Coyoteville. Do you?"

Cosmo shook his head, his gaze dropping briefly to the remnants of his dinner. He pushed his dish aside. His appetite was well and truly gone now.

"So what do you suggest, Don?" Cosmo was pleased that his voice sounded so steady.

Don leaned in closer and his mask of resolution fell away, replaced by a boyish grin. "We go to Hollywood."

Cosmo blinked, as startled by the suggestion as he was by the sudden, but welcome, change in Don's demeanor. "Hollywood?"

"Why not? If Mohammad won't come to the mountain, then let's take the mountain to Mohammad."

"Don, you're not making any sense."

Don flashed him another smile. "Think about it Cosmo. We've been traveling around the country, trying to be noticed when what we _should_ do is go someplace where we know people are hunting for talent."

He leaned closer, his dark eyes intent.

"Vaudeville's dying, Cosmo. Hollywood's the future. _Our_ future."

Cosmo felt a giddy flutter at those two words but he tried to stay focused. Cosmo could see the sense of Don's suggestion, but he could also see the risks that Don either didn't see or didn't want to acknowledge.

"There'll be a lot of competition in Hollywood, Don," Cosmo warned. "A lot of performers and not that many jobs."

Don shrugged. "What else is new? How much money do we have set aside?"

Cosmo knew without having to think about it. "$423.56."

"Subtract the cost of the train tickets to California and we still have enough to tide us over for a while until we can land a gig."

Cosmo studied Don's face, alight with excitement, wondering at this strange reversal of roles. He was supposed to be the one who came up with the hare-brained schemes; he was the one who swept them both along with his infectious enthusiasm. Don was the sensible one, the practical, skeptical one who grounded them in reality and kept Cosmo's flights of fancy from leading them too far afield.

Apparently, he really was rubbing off on Don.

Cosmo shook his head, smiling. "California, here we come."

[][][]

It wasn't particularly late when they retired for the night, but they rolled the sidewalks up early in Coyoteville. No doubt there was a club or a bar or some local watering hole where people were happily carousing the night away but it had been a long day, long enough that even a thin, lumpy mattress beckoned with seductive allure.

Smeagens was still sitting at the front desk reading his newspaper. Either the _Coyoteville Gazette_ was the gosh-darned most fascinating rag ever printed or the old man had fallen asleep where he sat. Cosmo was pretty sure he knew which it was.

They made their way up the creaking stairwell to the small room that would be their home for the next week. And, apparently, their last home on the road.

Cosmo sat on the side of the bed and watched as Don went through his nightly ritual. Jacket tossed over the back of a chair, tie and shirt removed, until he was dressed only in his trousers and undershirt. Don headed to the sink in the corner and Cosmo heard the pipes give a groan before water flowed, first in sputtering hiccups and then finally in a stream. Cosmo watched as Don leaned over the sink, splashing water over his face and neck before grabbing a threadbare towel hanging from a nearby hook.

When Don straightened, he caught Cosmo's eye in the small mirror that hung over the sink. Cosmo saw Don frowning before he turned to face him.

"What, Cosmo?"

Cosmo shook his head. "You'll think I'm nuts."

"I already do," Don said, lips twitching into a fond, indulgent smile, the kind he only wore when they were alone together.

Cosmo gave him a halfhearted smile before plunging ahead. It was harder to say the words than he'd anticipated. "When you said it was time for a change...I...well, I thought you meant that the time had come for you to strike out on your own." Cosmo dropped his gaze down to where his hands lay twisted in his lap, unable to meet Don's eyes.

"What?"

Cosmo drew a deep breath before looking at Don at last. He felt a twinge of relief at the expression of genuine surprise gracing Don's handsome features.

"C'mon, Don. I'm not blind. I'm good, but you're the one who's gonna be a star. You're the one with the looks and million dollar smile. It's only a matter of time..."

Don shook his head and came to stand in front of him. When he reached for Cosmo`s hands, Cosmo let himself be pulled upright so the two of them were standing face to face.

"That's not going to happen, not ever. We're a team, Cosmo. I need you, I always have."

When Don rested his hand against Cosmo's cheek, Cosmo leaned into the other man's touch, rubbing against Don's palm like a cat. Don smiled at Cosmo, his face soft with affection. Don's voice was just as soft when he spoke again, eyes locked with Cosmo's.

"It's you and me, Cosmo, all the way. Lockwood and Brown. Although," Don shot him a sly smile, "I have to admit, Lockwood and Jones _does_ have a certain ring to it."

Cosmo jabbed an elbow into Don's ribs.

Chuckling, Don held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right. Lockwood and Brown it is."

"That's better," Cosmo groused, but he knew the effect was ruined by the stupid grin he wore just then. He felt as if a weight had been removed from his shoulders, like Atlas sharing the burden of hefting the world.

"You know, Don," Cosmo continued, "the more I think about it, this whole going to Hollywood idea of yours is a pretty good one."

"Yeah?" Don replied.Cosmo smiled as he felt a hand sliding slowly up and down his arm.

Cosmo nodded. "Yep. It's got all kinds of unexpected advantages."

"Such as?" The hand was now moving along his chest.

"Well, if we're going to stay in one place for a while, we could rent an apartment."Cosmo tried to keep his voice steady but it was a losing battle.

"Mm-hmm," Don agreed. The hand was tugging at his shirt, pulling it loose from Cosmo's trousers.

"And if we rent an apartment, that means we'll need a bed."

"You don't say." The hand was starting to unbutton his shirt.

"And if we get a bed, that means we'll finally be able to get a mattress that isn't thin and lumpy or lumpy and thin. Just imagine it, Don. A real mattress. Wouldn't that be swell?"

"Sounds nice," Don said. "But for now?" A sudden shove sent Cosmo sprawling to the bed. "I'll take what I can get."

Don smiled down at him, that bright, million dollar smile that stole Cosmo's breath away and made him do crazy things like hit the road with nothing more than a hand-me down violin, a stack of sheet music and two dollars to his name; the same smile that made him content to hoof it all over America performing in obscure dives and staying in fleabag hotels and eating lousy food; the same smile that was steering him towards the bright lights of Hollywood. That wasn't his dream, it never had been, but he'd do it for Don. Cosmo would hitch his wagon to Don's star and hang on for the ride. He knew that he'd never regret it.

When Don tumbled down beside him in the bed, Cosmo reveled in the certainty that Tinsel town was the place for them.

Until they could upgrade to a luxury mattress, this thin and lumpy one would do just fine. Cosmo had Don beside him, after all, and that was all he ever needed.

**Finis**

Note: Title from _Istanbul (Not Constantinople)_ by They Might Be Giants.

 

 

 


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